Alternative Mockingjay Ending
by Leo Federico
Summary: I didn't like the ending to Mockingjay, so I wrote my own! It picks up at the end of Chapter 22, while the group is in the tunnels under the Capitol. I also hope that you like the nods to two other works of fiction in later chapters. Please R/R. Enjoy!
1. End of Chapter 22

**End of Chapter 22**

We run. Faster and harder than we've ever run before. Finnick tosses one of our explosives behind us, and after ten seconds it goes off. I hear a few of the beasts yelp and feel their thud against the floor of the serviceway, and that slows them down just enough to give us a bigger lead. We turn a corner and head down a narrow and dimly lit corridor. It's crumbling, suggesting the wear and disuse of many years, but there's no time to admire the integrity of this dingy little shortcut. Cressida is the last inside the passage, and as we all start to reach the end, she trips over herself and hits the ground hard. We've all already emerged on the other end when we notice she's not among us, and a mutt grabs hold of her legs and pulls her back. All I can hear are her screams. I collect myself enough to unsheathe an arrow and I aim it down the passage, hitting the mutt straight through the eye. The silence within confirms what I had naturally assumed, that Cressida is dead.

Out on the other end, we've stepped into a wide and high-ceilinged tunnel, dank and dark with only a few flood lights to light the way. The tunnel is long enough where I can't see where it ends or where it begins. All I see are a few ladders leading to a steel walkway above.

"Ladders!" Gale shouts out, and we all head to the nearest one.

The rest of the mutts are not far behind us as we climb the rickety ladder. It's a difficult climb, with years of grime and awfulness making every rung slippery and sticky at the same time. I look above me to see Peeta climbing, having a harder time than all of us with his hands shackled together. We're a good twenty feet above the service way when we land on the steel platform, Finnick still the only one who hasn't yet stepped up onto the ladder. Suddenly I hear the snarling beasts within the narrow pass we just left and I am filled with dread. I look over the railing and meet Finnick's eyes, while he holds the last and strongest of our explosives. The mutts have now entered the narrow corridor, their snarls and hisses of, _"Katniss,"_ now echoing from within it. Giving me the most playful and, dare I think it, suggestive of winks Finnick pulls the pin and stands at the mouth of the tunnel. He counts a few seconds before tossing it in.

A full three seconds tick by when I shout out, "NO!" at the top of my lungs. This, however, does absolutely nothing to drown out the sound of the explosion, the heavy vibration of the narrow passage collapsing, the sound of rubble pouring every which way, or the blood-curdling scream that Peeta lets out.

I turn and go to Peeta, who is sitting on the filthy floor of the steel walkway, his head hidden behind his knees and his manacled hands over his ears. As I crouch next to him, I can't help how helpless I feel, how tired I am of running. I place a tentative hand on his knee and I feel him shaking uncontrollably. I'm not sure what to do, so I gently lift his chin so I can see his face, feeling the sweat drip from the crown of his head. The normally vibrant blue of his eyes have been replaced by impenetrable darkness as his pupils have dilated completely. The muscles in his jaw have tensed, and he has furrowed his brow as though mentally remaining somewhere between hatred and confusion.

"You have to leave me," he says shakily between gritted teeth.

"You're coming with us if I have to knock you unconscious," I reply, not an ounce of humor in my voice.

"You have to go, Katniss," he says, now looking like he's about to have a seizure, "I—I can't—"

He lets out a muffled scream through his clenched jaw as the others form a kind of perimeter around us. Pollux is pointing his weapon at the collapsed passage, and I can see Gale is watching both Peeta and me with a kind of eager frustration. If Peeta could explode at this very moment I think he would, so I do the only thing I can think of to keep him in one piece. I take his head again in my hands and plant the deepest kiss that I'm capable of.

Seconds pass into minutes that pass into a millennium. I lose myself for a moment, passing my own determination to what I can only imagine is his unbridled chaos. I keep my lips on his for as long as I can live without oxygen, which as it turns out is an immeasurably long time while his kiss is on mine. It feels more sustaining to me than air could ever hope to be. I feel him stop trembling, the muscles in his arms relax, and I feel one of his hands on the nape of my neck. When we part, I look at him with anxiety and hope when I see those deep pools of blue staring into me.

"You promised to stay with me," I whisper.

"Always."

Down below, a sound comes from the rubble of the ruined passage that brings me back from that brief moment. I go back to the ledge, and with Gale we both take aim with our bows, expecting at any moment for the mutts to come bursting from the rubble of the passage. As the debris settles, we hear coughing and a few staggered footfalls and Finnick comes into view. I am flushed with relief as he waves away the dust and debris from his face. He's a little banged up, as he looks up at Gale and me from below, and gives us a thumbs up, catching his breath and admiring his destructive handiwork.

There is a distant and muffled thud that shakes us all for a moment. Finnick runs to the ladder and climbs it hastily, joining us above. I look to Gale, who is avoiding making eye contact back at me, "We need to get moving." He's already looking very pale and I wonder just how long he can possibly last with that wound. As he walks away from me, he wraps his neck in a dirty bandage and takes point. Peeta and I follow behind him and Pollux and Finnick take the rear. I'm stunned by how much has occurred in such a short amount of time, between Cressida's death, Finnick's resurrection, and Peeta's breakdown, it baffles me how much can change in the flash of an instant…how much has changed since this war began.

Eventually, Gale happens upon a small flight of five or six steel stairs that lead to a rusted metal door. It takes a forceful push from Finnick to get it open, and we all pour into a common sewer. All five of us are now standing in a dark tunnel with smelly water running about our ankles. We decide to stay in the water to throw off our scent as well as to leave as few tracks as possible, but the smell of the water is unbearable. Pollux now takes the lead; with his underground expertise he takes us on a route that would throw off any would-be pursuers. I hear Gale's breathing becoming a bit labored now, and I silently will Pollux to find us a place to stop soon so we can get Gale patched up.

Peeta, however, looks the exact opposite of Gale. He's alert, constantly turning his head this way and that at the sound of strange noises, and even throws me a smile or two when no one else is looking. It's like we're back in the arena for the first time, and despite my own tiredness, his looks are enough to keep me going. Now that I think about it, they always were. I am doing what I am doing now for Prim, but I can say without any hesitation that I wouldn't have gotten nearly this far without Peeta.

After what seems like hours of walking, Gale can no longer stand on his own power. As Pollux leads us on, Finnick and Peeta have taken each of Gale's shoulders as he walks like he's half asleep. A few minutes and a dozen different sewer tunnels later, Pollux stops at a ladder that rises through a tunnel. Silently, he points at me to go up, since I am the only one with a weapon who knows how to use it and who is not hauling a weary-looking Gale. Obediently, I climb the ladder, which really doesn't rise very far, when I come to a metal cover at the top. With all my strength, I turn the latch and swing open the creaky metal door.

As I break through the barrier, there's a loud clang as the trap door hits the floor of someone's utility room. The noise is plenty loud enough to rouse the woman who lives here, as she bursts open the door and I take aim at her with my loaded bow. But I'm astounded beyond all belief to see her standing there. The shockingly gold lipstick, the cotton candy-like hair, and posture perfect enough to make a statue jealous.

I am aiming my weapon at the heart of Effie Trinket.


	2. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

The odds are finally in our favor.

Effie is absolutely the very last person I expected to find on our would-be mission. In the back of my mind, I had silently wondered what had happened to our former Hunger Games chaperone, thinking she had probably been tortured for information about me and the rebellion, or maybe just killed off. I knew she did not deserve the fate that I had unknowingly assigned to her, but so many others had already died on my account that her death seemed like an acceptable conclusion. Instead, I'm holding my loaded bow, ready to let loose an arrow and do the job the Capitol did not.

"Goodness me!" Effie says in a surprised whisper, "Katniss Everdeen? Is that you?"

It's her saying my name that brings me back to Earth. She's giving me a quizzical look, as though not sure it's really me. I feel my expression soften, the muscles in my face and jaw loosen up, and I am able to take her in completely. She looks a little worse for wear, but otherwise she's the exact same Effie I know…used to know. But she's not wearing her usual bright colored robes; instead she has on a black suit elegantly trimmed in gold and a black hat atop her slightly askew golden hair.

"What on earth are you doing?" she asks, casting furtive looks to the side, as though making sure no one is noticing.

"We need help," I say forcefully as I pull myself out of the hole we've made in her utility room floor. I cast aside my bow, knowing I should not leave myself so unarmed, but this is Effie, and she is no more capable of harm than she is of displaying bad manners. As I help the others out from below, Effie leads us to her sitting room, drawing curtains on all her windows and making sure the front door is securely locked. By the time she returns, Finnick and Peeta have put Gale on the floor while Pollux checks the rest of the apartment. Apparently, we're alone. Peeta steps away from Gale as I crouch on the floor next to him.

"How's it look?" Gale asks, looking very relieved to be lying down.

I gently tilt his head and see just how badly the mutts tore open his flesh, "Just a scratch," I lie, doing my best to hide the disgust on my face. Gale knows I can't lie very well, so he only smiles weakly and sighs, no doubt knowing full well how bad it is. Effie looks helplessly down at us, mortified by the amount of blood I can't keep back and the sewage we're tracking into her once sterile home. The feeble wrap Gale placed around his neck isn't holding, and blood streams steadily down his neck and onto the carpet.

"A bandage Effie," I demand, as the blood stains her immaculately white carpet, "A sheet, something! Anything!"

My shouting startles her and she hurries off, but she returns a moment later with a first aid case, deftly unrolling a length of gauze to wrap around Gale's neck. She and I wrap and wrap the bandage, but there's so much blood it's not doing much good. It seems to be slowing down, but in minutes the once clean gauze is soaked completely through with Gale's brilliantly red blood.

"It's not working," Effie says, now on the verge of tears, "It's not working!"

I sit back a moment as Effie continues to crouch over Gale, applying useless pressure on a wound that will never stop bleeding. She's wearing a look of absolute horror, either because she's now wrist-deep in someone else's blood, or because the blood is staining her pristine floor. I think of my mother and her kitchen table, those poor people who came to see her with wounds much more severe than this. I remember her and Prim taking long lengths of thread and stitching the worst of these kinds of injuries shut tight, like sewing a tear in a piece of clothing.

"Thread," I say, panting, "We need a needle and thread."

Effie looks at me confused at first, then it dawns on her what needs to be done. She rises from the floor and walks out the room through another door. I count the seconds it takes her to return with a needle, a small spool of thread, and rubbing alcohol. She returns to my side and threads the needle and hastily pours some of the alcohol over it and over Gale's wound. She hands it to me shakily, as I pull back the gauze and start to sew.

Messily, I weave the thread in and out of Gale's torn flesh as he winces with every new stroke of the needle. Easily, I make the worst suture in the history of medicine, but despite the look of the stitch, it holds well and after a moment, the blood stops flowing. I cut the thread with my teeth and cover up his wound again with a clean length of gauze, and sit a bit more relaxed. Gale sits up a bit now, still looking very pale, but alive. He gingerly touches the side of his neck, and smiles at me, "Way to go, Catnip."

"Prim would be proud," I say longingly as I look to Effie. Her hands are stained with blood, as is her carpet. She sheds a tear or two as I put my own bloodstained hands on hers, "How much time do we have?" I ask to the room at large.

"A while, I think," Finnick replies, sitting on the arm of a sofa, "The explosion collapsed the passageway, and beyond that Pollux was smart enough to take us on a dozen different paths across the Capitol underground to get here. I'm pretty sure we lost them."

I look over to Pollux, standing guard next to Peeta who is sitting in an armchair. I don't think he's much of a danger now, not after what I saw in him down below, but we're all shaken from the attack of those mutts and the loss of Cressida, so I leave them be. Effie, on the other hand, stands up at once, looking at a complete loss for words. She looks so scared right then, so different from the smiling and bubbly Effie Trinket I first new in District 12. That seems like a lifetime ago…

"Thanks, Effie," I manage to say softly, helping Gale get standing again.

Again, she has to be snapped from her own reverie, and she looks down at me. For a second, I think she's about to scream, but instead she simply says, "Would you like something to eat?"

The mere prospect of food sends my mouth salivating, and I notice Finnick, Pollux, and Peeta perk up at the mention of it as well. No one moves while Effie casts a sad smile in spite of herself, and moves towards a door at the far end of the room, "I'll see what I can whip up in the kitchen."

Together, we all follow her into the kitchen and sit around her kitchen island. Effie washes her hands and pulls out a few cans of soup, a loaf of bread, some cold cuts, and a few bottles of brightly colored juice. Before she can even start on whatever dish she had in mind, we all ravenously dig in. Effie clearly looks a little offended by how fast we're inhaling her food, but says nothing. Instead, she looks worryingly at Peeta and his shackled wrists.

"Are those really necessary?" she asks.

Peeta looks to me and then down at his feet dangling from the kitchen stool, "Yes and no," he answers her, "The pain…it sort of reminds me what's real and what isn't."

I'm sure that now they can be removed, but I tell myself that's his decision. The torture Peeta went through is not something easily overcome. Afraid of where Effie's curious and confused line of questions will lead, I decide to change the subject,

"Can you tell us anything about what it's been like here?"

Effie looks away and sighs, and then goes off on what life's been like in the Capitol. There have been shortages of a great many commodities that the people here once enjoyed, though most people have hoarded enough to sustain themselves, like she had. Slowly, she says, as the rebels moved in, more and more Capitol citizens became displaced, and a sort of refugee camp had been set up in Agora Square, the main square at the heart of the Capitol which also houses the President's Manor. Every now and then, she says, some of the refugees are allowed to stay inside the mansion, a show of good faith on behalf of the President. In general, though, morale has been pretty low. All this fills me with satisfaction, that the people who have long been responsible for every kind of horror visited upon my friends and family are finally feeling some kind of pain. The people here that lived so well and lived in ignorance of what life was like for the rest of us…they need to pay.

The food finishes quickly, and I suddenly realize how tired I am. As I look at my fellow rebels, my own exhaustion is mirrored on their faces, and suddenly we all need a safe place to stay. I feel bad asking, but this is the first comfortable place we've seen in a very long while, and I just can't bear the thought of going on the run so soon.

I look to Peeta, who seems to be reading my mind and is the first to stand from his seat.

"Thanks, Effie, for everything," Peeta says, walking over to her, "And I really hate to ask this, but we desperately need a place to stay tonight…"

He places a soft if shackled hand on her shoulder, and she turns to him offers a warm smile. It never ceases to amaze me the affect he can have on people, even those of us that have known him the longest. Maybe that's why his charms work so well, because Effie and I have known him so long…

"Of course you can stay here," she replies, perhaps with a slight edge to her voice.

"You know we'll be putting you in danger."

"No more danger than I've been in this past year," she replies heavily. I wonder what she means by this, but Finnick cuts across me first,

"Where exactly are we?" he asks.

"In my townhouse," Effie said, standing up to collect the now empty containers of food, "On Harbinger Alley, between Via Petrae and Locus Ferreus."

He perks up and smiles a knowing smile, the kind that makes it easy to understand how the Capitol girls all fell for him. Gale, Peeta, and I, however, look confused. Pollux simply looks very pleased with himself. Of course, it figures that the only two people in our party familiar with this city would recognize Effie's address and be happy about it.

"So, this is a good place to be?" I ask, looking back and forth between Finnick and Pollux.

"The best," Finnick replies, "Pollux put us in a great spot. Agora Square is only five or six blocks from here, and that's exactly where we'll find—"

"The President's mansion," I say, finishing of his thought, "Pollux I could kiss you."

Pollux actually blushes at my comment, and unless I am mistaken, Peeta does too, but he's so covered in grime that it's hard to tell. I'm too self conscious, or else afraid, to look at Gale. I really don't have to, since it's Effie who suggests we all get some rest. Without realizing it, the sun has already set and night has fallen upon the Capitol in earnest, and tonight we could all potentially get a wonderful night's sleep. We all file out of the kitchen back into the sitting room, Effie headed this way and that collecting blankets and pillows for us all to use. In the meantime, she points Peeta and I upstairs and each of us take a bathroom as well as a shower. It's the first legitimate bath I've had since District 2, and the warm water mixed with her fragrant soaps are indescribably wonderful. When I emerge, there's a robe waiting for me in the bathroom with a change of clothes. They're Effie's, so they fit strangely, but they're clean and warm, so I don't complain.

When Peeta and I return downstairs, the boys and Effie are all watching a television screen, with a news reporter informing the public about our infiltration into the city. Apparently, the underground is being searched top to bottom as pictures of all six of us show up on the screen, including Cressida. I'm relieved to see her picture join ours, which means they haven't yet found her body and that our trail has indeed gone cold. We're safe, at least for tonight.

This news puts everyone at ease, and Finnick and Pollux are next in and out of the shower. Gale is the last up the stairs, who despite losing a lot of blood, makes it successfully up and down the stairs. They, too, are wearing a change of men's clothes, and I wonder where they came from, but decide I can ask stupid things like that some other time. Effie offers the bedrooms above us to sleep in, so I take one room, and Gale and Peeta in another. Pollux is happy to sleep on the squishy sofa in the living room. A real bed is the single most foreign thing I've experienced these long nights away from home, and as the soft pillow-top envelopes me, I drift away…

I slip into a dreamless sleep, the first I think I've ever had. No nightmares, no arena, no murder, no pain, just an eternal emptiness where I care for nothing. Then, out of nowhere, I see Prim looking very pretty and clean, and behind her a crowd of indiscriminate young faces. I'm a little startled by the look on her face, and I jolt myself awake. Deciding I could use some water, I get out of bed and head into the hall. Though I am stopped instantly by the quiet conversation taking place in the bedroom next to mine,

"…but the pain's mostly gone, though," I hear Gale say.

"Still, some sleep would be a good idea," Peeta replies.

"I don't sleep much anyways," Gale elaborates, "I wake up at least ten times a night."

"To make sure Katniss is still here?"

"Something like that." Gale admits, harshly.

There's a long pause before Peeta speaks again, "The cuffs are starting to bother me."

"Well you'll forgive me if I don't take them off just yet." Gale replies.

"I don't blame you," Peeta says, as I hear his metal shackles clanking, "It should be her decision anyways."

"So they're some kind of personal sacrifice for her?"

"Something like that," Peeta says, softly.

There's another pause, a bit longer this time. I start to think something happened when Peeta's voice calms me down again, "She loves you, you know. She as good as told me after they whipped you."

"Don't believe it," Gale replies, "The way she kissed you down in those tunnels… she never kissed me like that."

"She was just trying to keep me from doing something terrible," Peeta explains, a twinge of doubt in his tone.

"No you won her over. Gave up everything for her. From the first games you two were in together to this night…Maybe that's the only way to convince her you love her."

"Saying it from time to time tends to help."

"I don't think the three of us will be alive long enough to say very much to each other." Gale yawns again, "Come on, let's get some sleep."

"Yeah," Peeta replies, and I hear them both settle under their blankets, "So which one of us do you think she'll choose?"

"Easy. Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without."

"She's already survived without either of us," Peeta says, stretching himself out, "I think Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't _live_ without."


	3. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

A small chill runs down my spine. Am I really that cold and calculating? Does Gale really think that's all I need in a partner? Someone who can provide, whoever can contribute to my safety and longevity the most? Heaven forbid I decide to be with someone who I'm compatible with, someone I enjoy spending time with. And what was it that Peeta had said about me not being able to live without someone? What's the difference between 'surviving' without someone and 'living' without someone, anyway? It's a horrible concept to entertain, and at this very moment, I'm not entirely sure I want to pick either of them. I return to bed without water, without clarity, and without my friends.

There's no time to try and nurse my hurt feelings in the morning. I'm the last person to awaken in the morning, and find my mockingjay uniform hanging in my bedroom, clean as the day it was given to me. I dress and head downstairs into the kitchen, where the others are finishing their breakfast of powered eggs, powdered milk, and canned sweet potatoes. Effie is sitting at the island with the others and smiles at me in greeting as I take my seat, still dressed in the black suit from yesterday,

"You've done so much for us, Effie, I don't know how to thank you…" I say, marveling at her handiwork.

"You're too kind, Miss Everdeen," says Effie in her high tone that I remember, "I thought your uniforms would look better without all that sewage all over them."

"We also have a plan on getting into Snow's mansion," Gale says, as I tuck into my plate.

Gale and Finnick take turns explaining what we're going to do: on the news this morning, before I woke up, the anchor announced that a new round of refugees will be given houseroom within the President's Manor. They explain that the new group of people taking refuge within the mansion will be walking there, and the route they're taking will pass a mere block from here. The plan is to disguise ourselves as capitol refugees, slip into the throng headed to Agora Square, and regroup once we're in.

"Sounds more than risky," I say, emptying my plate.

"But it's the best we got," Gale replies, "Getting in is going to be easy, we're just not sure what it's going to be like inside."

"And how are we supposed to join the refugees looking like this?" I ask, indicating our clearly militarized dress.

"We're going to need a disguise," Peeta replies.

"I think I can help with that," says Effie, perking up a bit and walking around her kitchen island.

Together, we all follow her out of the kitchen, through the bloodstained sitting room, and down the hall. We stop at the last room at the end, a large master suite dominated by a four-poster bed draped in silk and gossamer hangings. Effie stops before a pair of double doors and opens them wide. What resides within the colossal walk-in closet is the most impressive collection of men and women's clothes, shoes, and hats I have ever seen. Cinna would be in heaven, if he's not there already.

"Katniss, start on the right, boys, the left," Effie says as she strolls confidently in, "There are some scarves hanging against the door for you, young man," she adds, turning to look at Gale.

Finnick immediately dives in, pulling out a robe of deep purple embroidered with gold stars. Pollux soon follows, admiring a canary yellow robe with a blue trim. I'm running my hand across the women's half of the closet when Peeta asks the question I was wondering just the other day,

"Effie, where did you get all these men's clothes?"

At this point Effie, who had been holding together so well, kneels within the large closet and starts to sob. Peeta gets to her first and kneels in front of her, holding her hands in his shackles. I'm standing up behind him while Effie does her best to collect herself. She takes a handkerchief from a breast pocket and dabs at her running make-up,

"They…they belonged to my husband," she manages to sputter out after a moment.

"You had a husband?" I say, probably a little more surprised than I should have, "Since when?"

"I think what Katniss means to say," Peeta interjects, covering my very overt rudeness, "Is what happened to him?"

Effie dabs her nose a bit before continuing, "He was on his way to work…at Palatine Hill, three weeks ago…there was an _explosion_…no one survived."

By now Effie is shivering, looking only at the floor. Finnick, Pollux, and Gale are standing at in the doorway holding a few chosen garments, listening to Effie as she continues. Between dabs of her handkerchief and heavy sighs, she manages to say that she had no idea who set off the blast, either the Rebels or the Capitol. It was mostly other government employees there that day, though there were a handful of children with their parents that didn't make it. I really don't feel much when I hear about those kids dying, but watching Effie slowly collect herself after talking about her husband pangs me with guilt. Suddenly her garb of black makes perfect sense.

Eventually, Effie is able to stand with Peeta's help, and she helps the rest of us get into disguise. Something comes over me when she finally stands on her own and Peeta starts to dress. As Effie helps Pollux into his robes, I go to Gale, demanding the key to Peeta's handcuffs.

"Are you insane?" he counters in a hushed voice, "He's still dangerous."

"If the Peacekeepers see him wearing those things we'll be caught for sure," I retort, "What would you think if you saw a refugee in handcuffs and headed straight into the President's home?"

I can see Gale working out my logic, and after a moment, he hands over the key to Peeta's manacles. In truth, I just want to get him out of those handcuffs. After last night and the way he was with Effie just now, it's time let him stretch his wings.

I take the key from Gale and smartly walk over to Peeta who is having a hard time getting his handcuffs through the sleeves of his chosen robes. Without asking, I take one of his wrists and undo the steel clasp. I take the other and do the same, and his chains fall to the floor. He doesn't say anything; he just rubs his wrists where the manacles had rubbed them raw, and then stares me down with those brilliant blue eyes of his. He smiles a small smile at me, and I can tell he's back to normal. Or at least, as normal he possibly can be after what they did to him.

I can honestly say that wearing all of these Capitol clothes over my uniform is the most uncomfortable I've been in a very long time, but if it's going to keep us alive then I decide it's not worth complaining about. Effie fixes our wigs and heavily paints our faces so that no one is distinguishable, especially Finnick. Gale, Peeta and I all agree we look utterly ridiculous, while Finnick, Pollux, and Effie roll their eyes. As we get ready to leave, I notice that Effie isn't following us.

"You're not coming with us?" I ask her.

"I've never been a fighter," Effie says, smiling at me like a mother would, "You're the girl on fire. I just get you where you need to be."

Peeta comes up beside me, and gives Effie a hug, "We'll think of somehow to repay you, Effie, for everything."

Effie returns his embrace, and looks at me warmly. I think of her as the woman who drew Prim's name from the reaping, who accepted me in her place, who helped Peeta and I win the Hunger Games, gave us in edge in the Quarter Quell, and now aided us and our friends. She simultaneously embodies the thing I am trying to destroy and the support I'm going to need to destroy it. Suddenly, I'm very glad she was not tortured or killed.

I don't say anything as Peeta and Effie finally part. I am so unbelievable grateful for these last two days that words don't seem enough. Instead she lovingly places her hand on my cheek and says,

"Go. There are people who need to be saved."

Obediently, we all file out of Effie Trinket's home.

We walk down a small stoop onto Harbinger Alley, Pollux leading the way to a small connecting road. Outside, I feel less like a fool. The few people out and about are wearing the exact same silly things we are, so I relax a little knowing our disguises are working perfectly. We take the side street to Via Petrae and meet the large group of refugees headed to the President's mansion. It's surprisingly easy to slip into the group. We take it in pairs to casually join them, Pollux being the last one in. The Peacekeepers look tired and weary anyway, and our presence hardly gets noticed. We blend in perfectly.

Now that I look at them, the refugees are a rather sad sight. Bundled against the cold like we are, they move slowly as Peacekeepers keep a steady and silent guard, as though they're expecting some kind of imminent attack. I catch the glance of one or two of them, and then furtively look away, hoping that we're not recognized. As we walk the six blocks towards Agora Square, flurries of snow start to fall, a bad omen in my mind, when the large city center comes into view.

Agora Square is massive. It's a wide open, oval shaped space surrounded by a colonnade. On all sides are tall buildings and shops, in the center is a large stone fountain, and at the far end opposite where we just entered stands the towering manor that houses President Snow. All around, barricades and barbed wire have been set up to help marshal the crowd and keep out intruders. The square itself is filled with tents of other Capitol refugees, huddling together for warmth and building themselves small fires. It's interesting to me to see this other side of the war, that the people who have taken so much for granted for so long now find themselves wondering how to survive…how to live.

The Peacekeepers keep us and the rest of the refugees in a group as we make our way across the square. The place is more or less quiet as we walk, with the occasional group of refugees talking about the sad state of things. As we get closer to the mansion, I notice a large area that has been blocked off by cement barriers, like some sort of pen. Within, however, are not animals or vehicles, but _children._ Fifty or sixty children sitting right in front of the President's mansion. They have their own tents and fires going, as well as their own squad of Peacekeepers.

"What is all that about?" Peeta whispers to me as we walk past.

I think about it for a moment, when a terrible idea hits me, "A human shield," I whisper back to him grimly, "They think that the rebels wouldn't attack the building if it meant hurting these kids."

"You really believe that?" Gale chimes in. Inwardly, I have no idea what President Coin and Plutarch are capable of together, but I am suddenly afraid for, and despise, these Capitol children.

We get marshaled past the kids and walk up a wide if narrow terrace in front of the mansion. We pass guard after guard and walk under a great colonnade when we finally cross the threshold into the mansion. And if Agora Square took my breath away, this place would kill me.

The main foyer to the manor is huge. Columns surround the interior with a pair of sweeping staircases on the left and right walls. The room is sumptuously decorated with gilded portraits and empire furnishings, with a large chandelier hanging from the rotunda above. Within, refugees who arrived on previous occasions huddle together much like those outside, though none of them have any fires lit. It's a small tent city within the mansion, and we are going to be their latest residents.

We head straight to the back of the foyer, underneath where the sweeping staircases connect to the upper floors. There's a nice overhang from the balcony covering us, so I feel well sheltered. While the refugees within are quiet and very peacefully mingling about, there is an obvious air of tension among them, and in the floor above, I can hear the quick-paced footfalls of heading this way and that. Even the Peacekeepers standing at odd intervals here and there have woken up a bit.

"People seem a little agitated," Peeta says.

"Not the refugees, though," Finnick adds, "Just the suits."

"Come on, we need to game out a plan," Gale says, and we all pretend sit down, doing our best to mimic the affected accents of Capitol citizens as we talk.

Quickly, we realize that no one actually knows where in this place President Snow actually is. Peeta wants to go and find an executive office of some kind, but Finnick thinks he's probably hiding in some bunker somewhere deep below the mansion. Gale tries to entertain both options, thinking that during the day he's out and about the manor, but at night takes refuge somewhere below. That makes perfect sense, except we still have no idea where either of those places could be. Besides, judging by all the action, I don't think it's going to be easy to escape the room and have a look around.

"Look, either way we have to wait until after nightfall," I say, sick of all this circular reasoning, "We can't just get up and leave now, we have to wait until the other refugees fall asleep and the guard isn't so tight."

"Alright," Gale concedes, "Then we've got to take out whoever's left guarding us quickly."

"And hopefully quietly," Peeta ads.

Gale nods and the others agree, and we all hunker down and wait. Eventually, an Avox comes around and hands us each a bowl of warm stew and we eat slowly. Peeta finds a small niche to sit in, something that looks like it used to house a statue, and makes himself comfortable. After a minute I go to join him, and I feel Gale's ever watchful gaze over me as I walk. I can sense he's not too pleased with me sitting with Peeta instead of him, but I need a moment's peace before we begin. So, I sit down and lean myself against him, studying the room. He's silent a long while before speaking,

"Quiet down your thinking or you'll give us away," Peeta says to me.

"This all has to go so right," I whisper back, "We need to get very lucky."

"No matter what, I think we already have been," he says, and gently places his strong arms around me. It's the same sort of way he held me in the cave all that time ago, and all I want to do is fall asleep like this. All I want are those kinds of moments back…

By the time night falls completely, the amount of Peacekeepers guarding us thins considerably. Many refugees head for their tents if they have one and fall asleep, and after three or four hours, all but four of the Peacekeepers have left. There are two at the foot of stairs, and two standing near the front doors where we entered. I start to think about the best way to take them out quickly, when I see Gale moving slowly towards us,

"It's time," He says curtly. I hurt his feelings, but after what he said last night, I could really care less about his sensibilities.

Our spot under the stairs at the back of the large foyer gives us a lot of pitch darkness for cover, so we change out of our disguises and get ready to begin. As it is the room is almost completely black, coupled with our black uniforms and black bows, we might as well be living shadows. Silently, he and I move behind a column each, while Pollux moves further back towards Peeta. Finnick lies low between Gale and me, ready to take off with his uncanny speed should he need to engage anyone. I see Pollux hit a button or two on his left arm and I know now that his footage is rolling, despite the horrible light. I had forgotten that he's supposed to be filming me, which makes me think of President Coin, and how sick I am of being just another means to her ends.

I channel this energy into my bow, as both Gale and I take careful aim at the guards directly across from us. Then, like it was in the woods, we let our first arrows fly. Both hit their targets square in their hearts, and we've already reloaded before the other two Peacekeepers could find where the shots came from. In another second, both our arrows fly true and the final two guards collapse in a heap on the floor. Carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping refugees, we head to the dead Peacekeepers at the front to make sure they're down for good. Finnick looks them over, nudging them with his trident. We executed them flawlessly. Not a single bullet fired. Not a single scream shouted.

Then the bombs begin to fall.


	4. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Six. That's how many bombs fall from the sky around the square. They don't land directly on us, but around us, which shakes and rattles the whole mansion. I look around and the violent shaking has now woken up most of the refugees here, many of them start screaming. They all start heading this way and that looking for cover, as three more bombs land nearby.

"Great!" Finnick shouts out, kicking the body of the Peacekeeper in frustration.

"What do we do now?" Peeta asks as the room starts to clear.

"We find Snow," I say, so angrily that I can't even see straight.

After the bombs stop, a relative quiet comes over the foyer. Then, up the stairs I see four or five Peacekeepers running across the balcony, one of them shouting, "Protect the President!"

"At least now we know in what direction to head," Peeta says, "Let's go!"

"Wait!" Gale says, "I have an idea." He kneels down at the dead Peacekeeper and removes his helmet. Quickly, he removes the wireless earpiece from the Peacekeeper's ear and places it in his own. He listens hard for a moment and looks up at the rest of us looking very pleased, "He's in his office…third floor…East Wing."

"Excellent!" Finnick says, kicking the Peacekeeper in excitement.

"What about the rebels?" I ask, hoping that they're delayed just a bit longer.

Gale listens again and puts a hand up to silence me, "They're in the air…with a large ground assault headed our way…they're bracing for the worst."

He stands up, as Peeta takes the dead Peacekeeper's weapon. Gale, again, clearly has an objection to this, but doesn't say anything. I feel like if he doesn't say something soon he's going to lash out at someone, so I kind of feel like smacking him, but now is not the time.

"Alright," Gale says, shaking off his disapproving look, "We follow those Peacekeepers that ran across upstairs and find the President's office before they bomb the place to the ground. And then—"

"—it gets really hard," Peeta interjects, and he's right. The place is going to be crawling with Peacekeepers and government officials, all of whom have a sincerely vested interest in the survival of the Capitol. Finnick swings his trident across his shoulders and breaks our brief silence,

"Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?"

We all smile in spite of ourselves, though Finnick's words have a rejuvenating effect on us. All at once we ready our weapons and make for the stairs. We run up the carpeted steps, weapons held at the ready when we reach the balcony and the second floor landing. A reach a wide hallway and hang a right, following the wake of the Peacekeepers we had seen.

The instant we turn the corner down the hall, we're met with a hail of gunfire from a group of Peacekeepers. Instinctively, we divide and take cover behind a pair of large statues and their marble plinths. Gale and Peeta are on one side of the hall, while Finnick, Pollux, and I are against the other. Gales fires off a few rounds from his side arm, and Peeta from the gun he picked up from down below. I can see now why they made training so mandatory in District 13; Peeta fires his weapon like he's hosing down a fire. Somehow though, they both manage to take down a pair of Peacekeepers. When the remaining two Peacekeepers pause to reload, Finnick and I take them out. I fire an arrow straight through the eye of one, and Finnick throws his trident with such force it throws the second Peacekeeper back a good five or six feet. Both are down for good, as Finnick pushes the button on his wrist and his trident sails itself through the air back to him.

"I've always wanted to do that," he says to me playfully.

Again, he makes me smile a bit as we all head down the hall again as one group. We decide not to take it at a run this time, but still move at a brisk pace to get there quickly. We turn another corner and encounter a pair of other Peacekeepers, one shot by Gale, the other impaled by Finnick. They were standing guard at the foot of another staircase, which we follow up to the third floor. Somewhere, closer by this time, another bomb falls and shakes the mansion, knocking us all off our feet.

"Let's move!" I hear Gale shout, as I turn to make sure Peeta is alright. I remember how he reacted down in the tunnels when there was this much action, and I just need to know he can make it.

Peeta is on one knee, his eyes closed and clenching his jaw. I go to him and get him standing, and I'm relieved to see his eyes are their normal state.

"They might carpet bomb this whole place, real or not real?" I ask him.

"Real," he replies, and plants a quick if forceful kiss on my lips, "So let's see if the odds really are in our favor."

As one, we all climb the stairs and land on the third floor. A quick check of his compass and Gale determines we're headed in the right direction. We hang a left this time, and are again greeted by another barrage of bullets. We double back behind the corner we just turned, and alternate exchanging fire down the hall. I peer around the corner, and there's no fewer than a dozen Peacekeepers firing at us.

"There's too many!" I shout over the firing of weapons, and take an explosive arrow from my quiver. No, I'm not supposed to use them in such close quarters, but this is going to take too long and time is not our friend here.

I load my bow and take a breath. I pull Gale from the corner and take his place, aiming my arrow at the floor, just to the right of center of all the Peacekeepers. I let it fly and it explodes as planned, opening a large hole in the floor, sending the firing squad down below. Debris flies every which way as we all cover our faces. When the dust settles, there's not a single Peacekeeper left, with just enough room for us to safely cross on the left side of the hall.

"There's no way you planned that," Finnick says, waving dust from his face.

"Who cares, just cross." I tell him, and we get moving down the hall.

The explosion left a ledge on the left side of this hallway about three feet wide, plenty of room for us to cross. I look down into the hole I made and I see all the Peacekeepers knocked unconscious. We're all across when Peeta brings up the rear. However, he makes a dangerous misstep and very nearly falls down to join the now steadily awakening Peacekeepers.

"Peeta!" I shout, watching him dangle down into the floor below.

He's holding onto the ledge with his bare hands, which are now starting to give way. He dropped his weapon down below, and is struggling to keep himself from falling. Finnick is the first to react, and heads to Peeta, pulling him up with one hand, and with a great effort, extracts Peeta and puts him back on our floor. I see Peeta on the ground, propping himself up on his elbows as Finnick crouches over him to make sure he's alright.

"That was a close one," Finnick says, examining Peeta's forearm which is now bleeding.

"Aren't they all?" Peeta counters back, catching his breath.

"That's two you owe me now," Finnick says. He flashes one of his winning smiles and winks up at me, when there's a whizzing sound through the air and Finnick suddenly jolts and lurches forward. He starts to fall forward when Gale catches him and lays him down. I look across the hole we just crossed and see a lone Peacekeeper with his weapon trained on us. Without thinking I take an arrow and fire it at him. It turns out to be an incendiary arrow, and the Peacekeeper bursts into flames. He flails for a second before throwing himself over the railing, down the rotunda.

By now, Peeta and Finnick have switched places. Finnick is lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood and Peeta is crouched next to him. Finnick's eyes are open and vacant, the shadow of his last resplendent smile still etched on his face. Peeta reaches over and closes Finnick's eyes. It looks like he could be sleeping.

There's another small explosion off in the distance, but judging by the fact that the mansion did not shake this time, it was not a bomb that was dropped. Gale turns away with his hand to his ear, listening intently over his stolen communicator,

"The rebels are almost at the square," he says, urgently, "We don't have much longer."

I get Peeta standing, who looks so unbelievably torn apart by Finnick's death that I think he might relapse. He just sheds a few tears and wipes them away, then steels himself for the fight to come,

"I'm good," he says to me, "Let's get this done."

We take each other's hands and follow Gale and Pollux down the hall. We take a small right and slowly open a pair of gilded double doors. What we find within confuses us to no end: the room is decorated much like the foyer below, with empire furnishings, tall windows and a pair of small chandeliers hanging at each end of the ceiling. However, all about the empty room is chaos. Papers have been tossed everywhere, small computers left on and running, chairs and tables overturned, and a waste bin or two set on fire, no doubt burning government documents. We walk in slowly, Gale keeping is gun at the ready, Peeta and I still holding hands, and Pollux behind, filming everything.

"Someone left in a hurry," Peeta says, looking around the mess.

"They didn't want to get caught," I say, kicking over a small stack of papers.

Together, he and I walk over to one of the desks still standing and look over the papers. Most are encrypted, and can't be read normally, while others are reports about the war's actual progress and rebel troop movements.

"Look at this," Peeta says handing me a long sheet. On it are names, ages, and addresses of people across Panem. At first I think it's a hit list, before I see the names of Finnick, Enobaria, and every other victor we fought with and against in the Quarter Quell. However, most of the names have been crossed off, "It's a list of all the victors. We were being targeted."

I think of President Coin, and how I had to strike a deal to make sure that Peeta, Annie, Enobaria, and Johanna would be spared once the war was won. I knew that once the dust settled that all the victors would be vulnerable, and apparently, so did the Capitol. However, unlike the rebels, the Capitol was a bit more proactive at tying up these loose ends.

I put the list down and pull Peeta away from the table as we all continue into the room. At the other end stand another pair of gilded doors. A brass plate lies on the right-hand door and it reads clearly, "_Office of the President of Panem et Circenses."_

Slowly, I reach out my free hand over the brass door handle. The door clocks open...

Peeta and I walk in first, Gale and Pollux after. His office is beautiful, and quite different from the room we just left. His is very clean, not a single article out of place. On either side, the office is flanked by columns and bookshelves filled with leather-bound books and small treasures. Behind the president's highly polished desk rises two very tall windows framed dramatically in heavy drapes. Beyond that, I can see has a terrace with a commanding view of Agora Square and the city beyond.

The office, however, is empty.

We all walk in quickly, looking between columns and pulling random books in the hope of finding some sort of secret passage. Nothing. The President has just up and disappeared like a ghost in the night. My heart sinks. I missed my chance.

"Look," says Gale, pointing at the open glass door behind the President's desk.

"Let's hope he didn't jump," Peeta says.

He takes me by the hand again, and we all move behind the desk as I silently curse Snow for such a cowardly concept as suicide. But my admonitions are belayed, as Peeta and I stop dead to see President Snow standing at the railing of the balcony, looking at the sunrise over Agora Square. From the corner of my eye, I see Gale take aim with his weapon.

"Glad to see you could find me," comes the cool voice of President Snow. Even now, at the end, he retains his confident and pompous aire that drives me crazy.

"It's not like your gang of Peacekeepers put up much of a fight," I shoot back. A breeze kicks up, and I can clearly smell his characteristic musk of blood and roses.

"I cannot deny that in recent weeks, the confidence my people have had in me has waned," he says, dabbing blood away from his mouth, "You saw the anteroom behind you. Everyone left hoping to escape, but without a single hovercraft left at my disposal, that may prove difficult."

"So no one had any more faith in you?"

"Letting refugees into the mansion was supposed to garner some more support for me, which it did…somewhat," he finally turns around to face me, "Much like the way you two are holding hands now, with that Avox behind you capturing every moment. It almost has me convinced."

"Nothing to convince," Peeta responds, squeezing my hand, "We love each other. Real or not real?"

"Real," I say. Behind me, I hear Gale fidget.

I hear the sound of gunfire below, and I see the rebels overtake the Peacekeepers guarding the entrance to the square. In moments I see the black uniforms of the rebels run into the square as all of the Peacekeepers lay down their arms and are taken away.

"Make it fast, Miss Everdeen," Snow says, "Or your friends will do the job for you."

I let go of Peeta and quickly draw an arrow and load it into my bow. I take my aim right over his heart, as my own is pounding so hard I think it's the sound of distant explosions. I ease my breathing and steady my hold, relishing the moment that will end all this pain.

But the relief never comes. Just before I release my arrow, a large hovercraft appears above bearing the seal of the Capitol. It passes over us loudly and settles itself right over the barricaded Capitol children, and releases dozens of silver parachutes. There are simply too many of the silver treasures to count as they descend on the eager children below. Everyone knows what these silver baubles mean, and the kids are happy to take their prizes. Then, the first round parachutes plucked from the air explode.

By now I have lowered my weapon as I look down to see children flailing, screaming, and crying for something...anything. But nothing comes. The square remains empty. I look at President Snow who's wearing a strange look on his face, almost as though he's as surprised as I am to see a Capitol-flagged airship overhead.

"Katniss, look!" I hear Gale shout over the din as he points into the square. Hesitantly, I walk further away from Snow as I join the others looking down into the fray. Now, a squad or two of rebel medics have run into the square, and instantly I can see the pretty young girl hoping into the barricade first, that plait of blonde hair dancing behind her, the ducktail formed from her untucked shirt. Prim lands in the pen and instantly starts tending to the wounded children.

"PRIM!"

Whether or not she actually hears me call her name I can't be sure, but she looks up at the balcony at the right moment and smiles a surprised smile at me. She looks so happy to see me, so willing to help these children who don't deserve her kindness, standing there in the middle of an exploded mine field. She looks so small, so young to be fighting in the war. How could my mother let her be here now? Does she even know? She looks so small…

Then all of the parachutes explode.


	5. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Something inside of me snaps. Subconsciously I think this is what Peeta must have felt when he saw me for the first time after his rescue. I am so filled with horror, anger, pain, sadness, but none of those words seem to justify the utter obliteration of self I feel inside. Half of me has died this morning, the best half, and all that remains is the beast within. And this beast needs to be sated.

I'm surprised to find myself on my knees, shouting, crying, struggling against this most extreme and unforgivable of blows. Peeta is on the floor with me, saying things I can't hear and caressing hands I can't feel. I look up and wipe away my tears, and I see Gale on top of President Snow, throwing punch after punch. Blood flies to the side and I wonder how much more abuse an old man like Snow can take. Apparently it's quite a bit, since I can still hear the hoarse laughter between Gale's forceful blows.

He stops just short of killing him, but not for lack of trying. In all the confusion below, the rebels have now arrived on the balcony and pull Gale off of the President. He has to be restrained by four soldiers before President Snow is lifted off the ground and carried away into the building. The hover craft is now gone, and Gale is leaning against the railing of the balcony catching his breath. Prim might as well have been his sister too, and if I had the strength I would have been right there with him, because this morning the Capitol took the one good and pure thing in my life that can never be replaced.

Peeta gets me to my feet and I catch sight of Gale, who looks straight back at me. He's been crying too, and this brings me back to life. I give Peeta's hand a squeeze and take off back into Snow's office. I'm not running, but it's not fair to call my pace walking either. Gale catches up with me first, followed closely by Peeta. We walk around the desk to find his office filled with rebel officers, at the center of it all is Paylor, the commander from District 8. She's surrounded by rebels, taking this paper and that, looking them over and giving out orders. She's in command here, so she's the one I need to speak to.

"I want to see Snow," I demand.

"Prisoner Snow is being taken to a holding facility beneath the manor pending his trial and what I am sure will be is subsequent execution," Paylor says, not even glancing at me, "Access to him will from now on be on a priority basis."

"I still want to see him."

"Listen, soldier, you—" Paylor stops herself as she looks up for the first time, happy to see me standing there. However, she does not express it for long, partly because she's not that kind of woman, but mostly because there seems to be a great many things demanding her time at the moment, "Katniss, you're here! I heard the most extraordinary rumors—"

"I need to see Snow, Commander. As soon as possible," I say again, getting tired of repeating myself.

Paylor sighs quickly, and suddenly looks very uncomfortable. She looks around the room, filled with officers as they try to make sense of, what I am sure, is the end of the war, "Gentlemen, Ladies, I need the room please," she says loudly, and in a few moments, the office clears and it's just the five of us.

"When can I see him?" I ask, which sounds more like a demand.

"It's not that simple, Katniss—"

"When?"

"Listen, you're lucky to even be here right now because if President Coin had her way you'd be locked up down there with him!" Paylor exclaims quietly. This shuts me up as she continues, "Give me a few days. Snow has to have his day in court, and after he's sentenced you can see him. For now just try to lie low, and in the name of all things sacred stay out of President Coin's way."

Paylor shows us the door as though it were her own office we were leaving, though I think to myself she does, in fact, occupy it well. We walk back into the previously chaotic anteroom and find that it's been cleaned up somewhat as rebels collect what I'm sure are incriminating papers. A weary looking officer assigns us quarters somewhere on the floor below. We all get rooms to ourselves, and both Peeta and Gale offer their company so I won't have to be alone, but I reject their offers. I need to be alone. Prim was the last and most significant loss in a long line of them, and I really just need some time to regroup.

I enter my room, which is modest by the rest of the mansion's standards, though it's still more than ample. I see there are two beds in this room, and I'm sure that my mother will be joining me at some point, though I can't bear to see here at the moment. I see that the drab gray clothes from District 13 have been brought in, and I change out of my confining uniform. The sun has risen completely now as I collapse onto my four-poster bed. When I look out my room's large window, I see a clear and cloudless day, the kind of day that would be criminal to spend indoors. The weather is mocking me, I know it is. The sun exists today only to shine with disdain as it disrespects my mourning.

The whole day, no one stops in to see me. My door only opens once as someone comes in and leaves me a plate of food, which I don't eat. My mother is gone, though her absence is something I've grown used to. I'm so filled with anger that she would allow Prim to fight here, or let her out of her sight long enough to do so that if I saw her now I might do something rash. It's best that she's wherever she is.

I think I fall asleep, though I can't be sure. I'm so enveloped my nothingness that when I stir again from the bed, the sun has begun to set. It's the only reference of the time of day I have. When I turn over, I see Haymitch sitting next to my bed. He takes the glass of water on my nightstand sitting next to my uneaten food and shoves it into my hand. I sip it with difficulty.

"You gonna eat that?" he asks me, indicating the sandwich waiting for me. He takes it before I can respond and starts to eat.

"What's been going on?" I manage to say, hoarsely.

"A lot," he replies simply, swallowing a bite of food, "Your _cousin_ did a real number on Snow. He's in the hospital now getting patched up."

"So Gale didn't kill him?"

"Came close, but he'll be fine in time for his trial tomorrow."

There's a long pause as Haymitch finishes my sandwich. So I do get to finish off Snow after all. The thought of piercing his heart with one of my arrows lifts me a bit, as I will get to avenge my sister and finally end all this madness. Coin owes me at least that much. I look at Haymitch, who is licking his fingers and places the empty plate back on the nightstand.

"Peeta's been worried about you," he says, and I feel a lurch of guilt, "Told him it's better to leave you be for a while, let you come around on your own." He's looking at me now unblinkingly, and I nod feebly in response, not meeting his gaze, "Alright then. Coin wanted to talk you too, but I thought she should wait her turn. Besides, I didn't think you'd be in the mood." He's right, I'm not. Haymitch then withdraws a flask from his jacket pocket and takes a quick swig.

I finish my water, and Haymitch goes on about what he calls 'the transition period.' Coin is now in complete control of Panem, with only a few pockets of resistance left in District 2. She's convened a council to help with the administration of the country, as well as the clean-up of the Capitol. He says she wants me to go out and put on a strong face for the people, give them confidence, but the mere thought of being used by her again enrages me, and I get to my feet and throw my glass at the door. It shatters spectacularly.

"Yeah, I told her that would be a difficult sell," he says, getting to his feet, "Go on and get some rest. It's going to be a crazy couple of days."

Haymitch leaves, and I take his advice. I take a shower to relax and climb into the warm bed. The sheets are exquisitely warm as I lay my head down in the soft down of the pillows. In minutes, I drift off.

I wake up a few hours later in the dead of night. Everything is silent and still. I thought for sure I would have a nightmare, but none came to haunt me. Instead, I am surprisingly greeted by Peeta's strong arms wrapped around me. I can tell by his breathing that he's sound asleep, and I do my best not to wake him. He must have slipped in after I passed out, and I snuggle up a little closer. He stirs a bit.

"Alright there?" I hear him say breathily, his eyes still closed.

"Not yet," I say, shutting my eyes, "But I think I might be." Spending my day alone was a poor decision. Having him next to me now makes me realize I am so sick of being alone.

The next morning we're awoken by a strong and abrupt knocking on the door. Both Peeta and I get up at once, looking groggily at the rebel soldier now standing in the room. It's no one I recognize, and he informs us that President Coin wants to see all the victors at once. We get up slowly, Peeta puts on his shoes and I braid my hair. Together, we follow the soldier out of the room, and he leads us down the second floor to the West Wing. He shows us a door and we enter it obediently.

It's an elegant conference room with a large highly lacquered oval table occupying most of it. Haymitch is standing in a corner talking to Beetee, while Johanna, Enobaria, and Annie are seated at the table. Peeta and I sit at the table, taking a pair of seats near the head of the table. Annie looks like she's been crying uncontrollably, her eyes are red and puffy, and every now and then dabs her nose clean. But despite her state, she still looks beautiful. Johanna, on the other hand, looks terrible. Her once dark hair has been completely shaved off, her curvy body replaced by an emaciated stick. Her eyes are the same though, and she meets my stare with intensity and purpose. No one, no matter the torture, could rob her of her presence. Enobaria looks utterly unchanged, even cared for.

Before we can begin with any sort of pleasantries, the door swings open, and in walks Plutarch Havensbee and President Coin. She looks around imperiously and as usual, gets straight to the point,

"Excellent, let's begin." She doesn't sit as she continues, "You seven represent the last surviving victors of the Hunger Games. As such, you are needed to help settle a dispute. The Transitional Council is evenly divided on an idea of my own design. Since we cannot reach a consensus, we would like you to settle the matter of whether or not to hold a final Hunger Games."

No one makes a move. Annie looks scandalized.

"What?" Johanna says.

"A final Hunger Games," Coin repeats, "We would reap the tributes from the children of various Capitol citizens closest to the games and President Snow. Once twenty-four have been picked, the seventy-sixth and final games will be held. The games themselves would be designed by Plutarch. Each of you gets one vote, yes or no, on whether to hold these games. No one may abstain. A majority of four will carry the motion."

The tension in the room becomes so thick it's suffocating.

"You should know that if a majority votes in favor of the games, we will announce publicly that you the victors voted to give your consent, though the individual breakdown of your votes will be kept secret. Victors of Panem, what say you?"

"No, of course!" Peeta declares, getting to his feet, "How can we send other children into the arena, seeing what we've seen? Doing what we've done?"

"They're not children," Johanna says, "They never were. They're the enemy."

"And when do we stop looking at them like the enemy?" Beetee chimes in, an argument to which Peeta agrees.

"Never," Enobaria replies as casually as though she were talking about the weather, "I say yes to the games. Let them have a taste of their own medicine."

"I vote yes," Johanna says, "They should know what it's like to have their most precious things taken away and slaughtered. Snow has a granddaughter, she should be first in."

"Absolutely not!" says Beetee, "This is a time to start fostering unity, to forgive the sins of the past and start building a better nation. I vote no. Unequivocally no."

"After what their parents did, you would just let them be?" Johanna shoots at Beetee.

"Then punish the parents," Peeta replies sounding older than himself, "Try them and sentence them, but sons should not pay for the crimes of their fathers."

"I vote no," Annie says quietly, "Finnick would too."

There's a pause in the debate, and I see Plutarch writing down the votes as their cast. I wonder if this is how it was some eighty years prior, a room full of people deciding on how best to punish the districts, about how honorable and necessary it was to force children to fight to the death. Coin turns her ever watchful gaze onto me, but doesn't say anything. Instead she looks over me, to Haymitch, and says, "How do you vote, Haymitch?"

I can hear him run his hand through his hair before answering, "I vote with the Mockingjay."

"Katniss?"

President Coin says my name like it's acid on her tongue. She's upset at me for leading the mission into the Capitol, for surviving it, and taking her grand honor of executing Snow. None of this fazes me. What does is thinking about those children barricaded in front of the mansion, Prim jumping in to save them. Prim risking her life for theirs. And it was all in vain.

"I vote yes," I say, and I can feel Peeta's gaze turn on me, "For Prim."

"Then so do I." Haymitch says.

"That's four to three in favor, Madam President." Plutarch says, pocketing his piece of paper.

"Good," Coin says, looking pleased, "Then we'll make the announcement after Snow has been executed. Plutarch, make the arrangements."

Plutarch and Coin leave, talking about Snow's trial which is set for today. No one says anything, not even Peeta. I get up and stand next to Peeta, and I try to take his hand so we can leave. Instead, without even looking at me, he turns and walks right out of the room.


	6. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

"Peeta!"

I'm chasing him down the hall from the conference room. He doesn't turn when I call his name. Running to him is like running in sand, it's so torturously slow that I feel like I'll never reach him. After what feels like hundreds of miles I catch up to him on the balcony above the grand foyer. I put my hand on his shoulder and he turns around, stopping matter-of-factly and looking at me like I'm some sort of stranger. Peeta has never been angry with me, never. For all the heartache, all the lies, all the pain endured because of me, he never once held it against me. I see a fiery rage in his eyes today, and I feel powerless against it.

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Why did you vote to kill all those kids?" he fires back. His voice is steady, which only adds to my defenselessness.

I look back at him, clearly stung, "That's not fair."

"How could you support something like that after what we've seen in the arena? After Rue? After Mags? After _Finnick_?"

"It's because of them I did what I did," I reply, "These people in the Capitol, they need to know what they put us through. They need to experience what everyone else in Panem felt! They need to know how the rest of us lived."

"No, they don't," he says, grabbing me by the shoulders, "Katniss, we've won the war. It's over. There shouldn't need to be anymore death."

He's looking at me more intensely than I can recall him ever looking at me. Those bright blue eyes are pleading with me to see his side of mercy, but when I think of Prim and how she vanished from my life in an instant, all I want to do is make it right. Mercy in the death of my sister seems utterly impossible.

"I gave up everything for her, Peeta," I say in a small voice, "She was my sister."

He takes his hands from my shoulders and starts to walk away. After a few steps, he stops and half turns to me and says, "You're not the only one who's lost family because of the Capitol."

He walks away from me, leaving me standing on the balcony completely alone. People start pouring into the foyer from outside, all of them headed somewhere with purpose, while I watch Peeta—my Peeta— moving further and further away. In all my sorrow, all my hatred, I had forgotten about how devastated he was to learn about his family's fate. More and more people are walking in now, and the noise is starting to get to me.

I decide to get moving, to try and find Peeta and apologize. But for what? I'm not going to change the way I feel about this. Should I apologize for forgetting about his family? That might seem more than disingenuous given the way we both feel about the last Hunger Games. My feet carry me this way and that, as my own ambivalence and lack of direction is mirrored in my footsteps. I change my mind, and give up on finding Peeta. Haymitch was right yesterday, about me coming around on my own, so I think that the same might hold true for Peeta. At least, I hope it does.

The rest of the day passes slowly as I take to my old habit in District 13 of wandering around alone. I hear snippets about Snow's trial, which is taking place in the Grand Ballroom on the first floor. Soldiers are all ecstatic at the fact that their sworn enemy is now one step closer to his lonely grave, while I overhear newly installed government workers call the trial little more than a kangaroo court. I guess it makes sense; Snow's death is a foregone conclusion, they just need to hold the trial to save face. Apart from that, the rest of the day is entirely unremarkable.

I retreat to my room, my mother still nowhere in sight. She pours her grief into her work, so she's been eating and sleeping in the hospital. I lay on my bed, curled up in a fetal position. The question about the Hunger Games still hands in my mind, though I am sure I made the right decision. The way Prim died needs to be answered, and I can think of no better way than forcing Capitol children to tear themselves apart. They would do, and have done, no less to us. Snow saw to that.

Snow. I sit bolt upright in my bed and look out the window. Night fall. The trial must be over by now, and I get up and out of my room in a hurry. I stand outside my room looking around, and I find myself in the same position I was in a few nights ago: I have no idea where they're keeping Snow. I run up to his old executive office, but I find it empty. In fact, I run into next to no one, and it's not even that late. I leave the office and walk back into the anteroom when I see someone rifling through some papers. I don't know her, though she's not wearing a military uniform, so I assume she's some kind of newly minted government functioneer. There's only one card I can think of playing at this moment, so I walk right up to her and speak,

"I need to know where they're keeping Prisoner Snow?"

The woman looks me over curiously. She recognizes me, and I can see her struggling with whether or not to tell me, "I'm sorry, Miss Everdeen, but President Coin has ordered that access to him be restricted to members of the—"

"Listen," I say, impatiently, "I am the Mockingjay! In the last week I have infiltrated this Capitol, been blown up, shot at, chased by mutts, and shoved into sewer! I've survived the arena twice and helped install this government you now serve, and I demand to know where they are keeping Coriolanus Snow!"

By now I am toe to toe with this woman, who looks genuinely afraid at what I might do. She's a nobody, and I just went off on her like she was Coin herself. I back off from the woman as she collects herself, and says in a flustered whisper, "He's here, on the third floor. The West Wing. There's a detail outside his door at all times."

I start to leave the anteroom, as I hear the woman pick up a phone and start dialing someone. She's probably summoning someone to head me off, but that won't matter. Whoever she calls, I'll get to the room before she even hangs up the phone. I run down the halls and head down the opposite corridor from the executive office. It's a hallway I've never been down before, and it's not long before I lose my bearings. I slow down and after a few minutes come across a simple looking yet highly polished door. Standing on either side is a pair of soldiers, who as I approach step in front of the door denying me access.

"No one goes in," one of them says, "By order of the President."

"Look, I have to get in there, now." I tell them, wondering how I can convince them to move. Something tells me shouting 'I'm the Mockingjay' is not going to work on these two.

"On whose authority?" the other soldier asks.

"Mine."

I turn around and see Paylor walking down the hall. The soldiers straighten up as she stops and stands at my side, "What happened to lying low?" she asks me, folding her arms behind her back, "You really rattled that intelligence officer outside the executive office."

"She wasn't being very helpful." I reply.

Paylor cocks up an eyebrow before returning her attention to the soldiers, "Stand aside and let the Mockingjay through. I'll accept full responsibility."

The soldiers stand aside, and I notice for the first time that they're not wearing the District 13 uniforms like Gale. Their uniforms are different, when I realize that these soldiers are from District 8, and they belong to Paylor. Once the way I clear I turn the brass door handle and walk in.

I am instantly assaulted by the scent of roses. The door clicks shut behind me as I see tray after tray of genetically enhanced roses that sends a chill down my spine. The smell reminds me of the mutts that chased us in the bowels of the city, to say nothing of the white rose that stood in my room back in District 12. The room is dark, with only a few lights on over the roses themselves. They grow high enough to where I can't see over them, so I really can't tell where Snow is either.

I walk in between two of the towering trays of the flowers, and find a brilliant white bud among a throng of reds that have yet to open. I take a pair of hand shears to cut the bud from its stem, thinking about Snow and how this would be the perfect addition to his lapel on the day I would execute him. The roses are genetically enhanced, so they don't grow thorns, which allow me to easily grasp smooth green stem. That is, until, I am startled,

"There is nothing quite like the brilliance of a white rose, is there?"

I jerk my hand closed around the shears and the rose falls on the table. The voice of President, now Prisoner, Snow catches me off guard. I turn around, trying to see where his voice is coming from, but it's so dark in here that I'm lucky I can see the roses. After a minute the lights come up on the room completely now, and there he is, standing two trays down, watching me like I'm some sort of interesting curio. His snakelike eyes capture me hypnotically as my pulse increases. I have half a mind to use these shears and do the deed right here and now, but I hesitate. The surprise is his, and I can't help it.

"I was hoping you would find my quarters," he continues, dabbing a bit of blood away from his mouth, "My only guests lately have been Alma Coin and Plutarch Havensbee, so I am naturally starved for intelligent conversation."

As my eyes adjust I see he's staying in a room similar to mine, except every empty space available has been occupied by roses. I expected him to be kept in more austere facilities, more like a jail cell than luxury suite turned greenhouse. Yet Coin left him here. To set a precedent, I guess. So that it in the future if she ever fell from grace it would be understood that all presidents—even the most despicable—get special treatment.

The scent of the roses is becoming overpowering, but I do my best not to betray this weakness. With the lights up now, I also get my first look at Snow since Gale beat him within an inch of his life. He has a terrible black eye that's swollen his eye shut, bruises and cuts all over his face, and a busted lip that looks like it's just now starting to heal. I don't feel anything for him.

"I'm very sorry about what happened to your sister," he continues, taking a pair of his own shears and snipping off a red rose. At the mention of Prim my mind goes blank, as I hang on his every word, "Such a waste, but that sort of thing can happen, especially when you put your faith in the wrong people."

"The wrong people?" I repeat. I try not to sound too stupid, but the roses are really starting to get to me.

Snow looks at me with those snakelike eyes of his, as though he's trying to read my mind. Then comes the condescending tone that I know so well, "My dear Miss Everdeen, you have a lot of growing up to do. You and I both know I am not above killing children. But anyone could see the game was over by then. There was no benefit for me ordering an attack on those children. I take lives only for very specific reasons. And there was no reason for me to kill all those children. None at all. She really didn't think that part through."

Now I'm getting confused. She? Who's she? Who else would have done something that monumentally wicked as the Capitol? The airship even had the Capitol seal on its side! I try not to betray my confusion on my face, though as Gale can testify, I've never been good at hiding these sort of things. I think this is something Snow notices, since he continues his tangent,

"Still, it was a masterful move on Coin's part. The idea that I was bombing our own helpless children sapped whatever frail loyalty my people had for me. No one resisted after that. Did you know the whole attack was broadcast live? Surely you can see Plutarch's hand in that. And those silver parachutes were an especially nice touch. Something one would expect from the former Head Gamemaker. Gruesome, very gruesome."

I've mentally checked out at this point. I find myself back in Special Weaponry in District 13 with Gale and Beetee. Looking at the designs based on Gale's traps that played on human sympathies. The first bombs they dropped killed the victims, the second killed the rescuers. I remember what Gale said that whole lifetime ago,

"_Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta."_

"Speaking of the games, I'm told that the newly established United Distrcts of Panem are going to hold a final Hunger Games, a last insult to the people who so tormented the districts. And if Plutarch is to be believed, they are doing so with the consent of all the surviving victors. Curious…"

I snap from my reverie. I look at Snow now, my eyes full of hate, "How is it _curious_? It's about time you and your people felt what it's like to lose a son, a daughter, a _granddaughter_."

Snow narrows his eyes, "It's curious," he continues, his tone now darker, "Because how else could Alma Coin get you to agree to hold another games if your sister didn't die with those children? I can count to four the same way she can, Miss Everdeen, and you were the one she needed to sway. The death of your sister, though grotesque, put you squarely in Coin's corner."

"This is impossible," I say, though I'm not sure that I believe that, "How could Coin possibly think she could keep this quiet?"

"Because history is written by the winners," Snow replies, coldly.

I refuse to accept Snow's version of reality. Some things even I can't survive, and if this were true I don't think I could. "I don't believe you."

Snow shakes his head, and chuckles a knowing little laugh, "Oh my dear Miss Everdeen, I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other."


	7. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Out in the hall, I find Paylor standing right where I left her, "Did you find what you were looking for?" she asks me.

I stare at her blankly and stalk off down the hall. I'm not sure how I make it back to my room, but I must've done so safely, because I find myself pouring a glass of water and sitting on my bed and starring out the window. I have no idea how to process everything Snow just told me. I walked into that room intending to give him a piece of my mind, if not beat him senseless like Gale did. Instead what I got was an earth-shattering education from a man I have no business trusting, yet who has nothing more to lose.

There are two truths that I have been presented with, though I really don't know the finer points of either of them. First, that the Capitol sent in that hovercraft to destroy their own children. They dropped the parachutes that twice exploded, knowing that the soon-to-be victorious rebel force would arrive to rescue them. There's evidence for all of this too. The Capitol seal on the hovercraft, their long history of using children against the districts, and the fact that the parachutes have always been a tool of the Capitol in the Hunger Games.

Then there's Snow's version of history. That the rebels had manned that hovercraft, concealed it as a Capitol vessel, and destroyed those children to deceive the entire country, end the war early, and as far as Coin is concerned, used the collateral damage of my sister's death to manipulate me. But this is hard for me to believe, since District 13 has always prized children. Except for me, perhaps. Once I outlived my usefulness, I'm sure I would be targeted like all those other victors, though I doubt I've been considered a child in this war for some time. And how could they fire off that second blast, knowing their own medics would be caught in the explosion? Unless, she knew that, which means she deliberately ordered the death of my sister. No, she wouldn't do that. She couldn't. Snow's lying, like he always has. Hoping to turn me against the rebels and maybe even destroy them. Yes. That's it.

Then what's eating away at me? Why can't I just accept my own logic? Those double-exploding bombs, for one. It's not that the Capitol couldn't have the same kind of weapon, it's that I am sure the rebels did. Those were definitely Gale and Beetee's creations. Then there's the fact that Snow made no escape attempt. If he had that hovercraft at his disposal, would he not have used to make a get away? He's not a noble man; he would have saved his own skin at the first sign of defeat. He had to have had a retreat somewhere, some underground bunker where he could survive his last days. Then there's what he said about Coin, orchestrating this elaborate attack just to get to me. It all seems like a lot just to try and get me to agree to another Hunger Games. I probably would have voted that way, even if Prim was still alive. Wouldn't I? Still, the war was all but won by then. Everything was in her grasp. Absolutely everything.

Except me.

I remember what Boggs said to me when I admitted I hadn't thought about who should be elected as Snow's successor,

"_If your immediate answer isn't Coin, then you're a threat. You're the face of the rebellion. You may have more influence than any other single person. Outwardly, the most you've ever done is tolerated her."_

Even Coin wouldn't be that desperate. Would she really be that hungry for power as to obliterate all those children? Did she really want another Hunger Games so badly that she would green light the murder of my sister, just to get my support? There is something so unbelievably frightening about this line of thought that I can't process all this new, for lack of a better word, information. My thoughts immediately take me to Peeta, but he's probably still mad at me for my vote the other day. There's Gale, but he's been so distant since the hovercraft attack that he's changed somehow. If I confront him about this who knows how he'll react. I used to know…so Peeta is still the one person I know who can think things through clearly and completely. I make up my mind to find him instead of Gale.

I leave my room and walk down the hall to Peeta's. For being so close he has seemed so far away, and despite the advice I gave myself about letting him come around on his own, I desperately need to talk to someone. I gently knock on his door, and after a minute, he's standing there before me, his brilliant blue eyes looking at me as though it were for the first time.

Before I can even say his name he wraps his arms around me and gives me a deeply passionate kiss. In the hours and days it takes for us to part a lot of unspoken words pass between us. Rationalities, apologies, and forgiveness chief among them. I can tell that he's missed me as much as I him, the thought of which renews me, grants me the kind of perspective words never could. When we finally separate, he looks at me and smiles, "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," I say, "Peeta, listen, I know that the meeting went—"

"It's ok, Katniss," he interjects, "I love you, and there is never anything you can say or do that would ever change that."

Haymitch was right, I could live a thousand lifetimes and I would never come close to deserving him. I have to wonder if he feels the same way about me, if he feels worthy to be mine. I think about the prospect of going on without him, and that is a future too terrible to accept. His complete absence has made me realize something I knew since that night at Effie's, that I cannot live without him. I look around a bit, and on Peeta I smell that familiar and foul order of liquor. It's not terribly strong, but I would know the smell of Hob hooch anywhere.

"Peeta, have you been drinking?"

He looks down at the floor and smiles, and opens the door wider. Sitting behind him in a chair at a small round table is Haymitch. I give Peeta sideways look and crack a grin, as we both walk into the room and take seats with Haymitch at the table.

"Glad to see you two have made up," Haymitch says, pulling a flask from his pocket and taking a drink, "You both ready for tomorrow."

"As ready as I can be," I tell him.

"So it's done then?" Peeta asks.

"Oh yeah, like dinner," Haymitch replies, smacking his lips. He withdraws a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, the same where the flask came from, unfolds it, and reads aloud, _"By order of special tribunal, convened in the name of the people of the United Districts of Panem, Coriolanus Caligula Snow, herein called the condemned, shall be executed by firing squad after sunrise the day next."_

"Firing squad?" I ask.

"You," he replies, simply, "Coin made that clear at the end of the trial."

Haymitch folds the paper up and replaces it back in his coat, along with the flask. He stands from the table and gets up to leave. When he gets to the door, he turns to look at me and says, "You're a smart girl, Katniss Everdeen. Don't screw this up." He leaves.

Peeta looks at me a little perplexed, "Screw what up?"

I think about it for a moment before answering, "Us."

Peeta chuckles a little bit and takes my hand, "Like you ever could," he says, "You want to stay here tonight?"

"More than anything," I tell him, and together, we get into bed and drift peacefully off to sleep.

The following morning, we're both woken up by a knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer the door pops open, and Effie Trinket walks smartly into the room. She's still wearing her black suit, as I privately wonder how long a person can remain in mourning. Then Prim pops into my head, and I decide it can last as long as it takes.

"Good morning, Katniss. Good morning, Peeta," Effie says, as we both get out of bed to greet her. She gives each a soft kiss on the cheek and smiles, "I'm happy to see that you're both alright. Now, we have another big, big, big day ahead of us, and we need to get started. You're prep team is waiting for you in your room, Katniss."

I go with Effie and together we walk the short distance from Peeta's room to mine. Inside, I see that Octavia, Flavius and Venia have already set up their usual station for me. They greet me like old friends and sit me down in a chair to begin their work.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Effie says, giving me a kiss on the forehead, "I'll go double check the arrangements," she says, and leaves.

I sit in the chair as Flavius works his usual miracles with my hair, getting it softer and shiner than it has been in recent weeks, "I really can't tell you how happy I am to see all of you," I tell them.

"We're the lucky ones," Venia says, painting my nails a muted red.

"All of the other prep teams were captured and killed," Octavia adds, painting my lips. At this I can see her holding back tears, so I decide not to push the issue. I wonder who captured and killed them, if it was the Capitol or the rebels. I doubt it even matters anymore.

Once they're done, they help me into my mockingjay uniform and Octavia affixes the mockingjay pin over my heart. The take a step back as I admire their handiwork in a mirror. You can hardly tell there's any make up on me. I look so natural and glowing, like a dying ember, that it stands in direct contrast to how I feel within. I still haven't quite made heads or tails of Snow's parting words to me, and I suddenly feel a little uncomfortable looking so confident but feeling so unsure.

At that moment there's a gentle tapping on my door, and in walks Gale, dressed in the gray uniforms from 13 and carrying a sheath with a single arrow. He looks around the room, and gives my prep team a half-smile in greeting.

"Katniss, could I have a minute?" he asks.

"Sure," I say.

Gale stands away from the door as my team files out, but not before they each give me a little kiss on the cheek. Once they're out, Gale closes the door behind them. He then walks up to me, though does not meet my gaze. He stands behind me as I continue to examine myself in the mirror. I haven't seen him since that morning on the balcony, though it feels like much, much longer.

"You never came to see me," I tell him, trying to catch his eyes in the reflection.

He doesn't say anything.

"What's that?" I ask him, indicating the sheath.

"Oh, it's for you…for Snow," he says, strapping the sheath over my shoulder, "It's supposed to be symbolic. You're firing the final shot of the war."

"And if I miss?"

"You never miss."

He finally looks up, and his eyes meet mine in the mirror. He looks so tired, so much older than when I knew him those five years ago in the woods. He places his hands on my shoulders, and I can tell he's seriously considering about kissing me. Strange, though, as the same thought doesn't occur to me. He was right, that night in Effie's townhouse, I picked Peeta the moment I kissed him in the tunnels.

"They're offering me a position in District 2," he says, and all I can think of is how much I hate small talk. We never used to make small talk, "Second in Command to Paylor. I was thinking of taking it, unless you…"

"Was it your bomb?" I ask quietly.

Gales sighs, "I don't know," he says, honestly, "Beetee seems to think so, but there's really no way of knowing for sure. Would it matter? You'd be doubtful anyway. Protecting your family was the one thing I had going for me."

He turns me around and looks at me intensely. Then he goes for it, giving me one last kiss. I know he wants me to reciprocate, to wrap my arms around him the way he has his around me, but I can't. I'm in love, but it's not with Gale. After a minute he lets go, looking crestfallen, and says, "Goodbye, Catnip."

Gale turns and walks out of the room.

Half of me wants to chase him down, let him know that I don't hold anything against him, and that I forgive him for anything he might feel guilty for. I want to tell him that if Prim hadn't been picked in the reaping, or even if he had volunteered to take Peeta's place, so much would be different. We both might've survived, fallen in love, maybe even married, and taken off with our families to live in the woods. I want to tell him that things could have been so different for that boy and that little girl when they met five years go. Instead I stay rooted to the spot, filled with what might have been.

Effie walks back into my room, and says, "It's time."

She takes me out of the room and I walk down the hall and down the sweeping staircase to the main foyer. The place is packed with soldiers and government officials alike as Effie walks me through what'll be happening. It's clear to anyone that I'm not paying attention; my mind is in a thousand other different places but here. Peeta is standing at the foot of the stairs and looks at me with concern, "Alright there?" I nod as he takes me by the hand, and Plutarch starts to organize everyone into groups. I am handed my bow, and when it's our turn, Peeta and I walk out of the mansion, past the grand colonnade, and onto the wide and narrow terrace.

The square is filled with people in the bright midmorning sun. I see Coin emerge onto the balcony above the square, the same balcony where I saw Prim die, and everyone in the square starts cheering. Behind Coin is a retinue of ministers, military leaders and attendants. The fact she has an entourage disgusts me.

Then, Snow is brought out.

He's escorted by four guards who tie him to a post, though that's really not necessary. He's not running anywhere. I can see now why there was no concern about the one arrow, the man is restrained not ten yards from me. He looks much the same as the night before, still badly bruised and injured, and wearing a plan grey jumpsuit, blood dribbling down the side of his chin.

I draw my arrow and take aim, and a deafening silence falls over Agora Square. I look down the shaft of the arrow and my eyes meet Snow's. He grins again, the same grin he gave me at the end of our little meeting, and in my head I can hear those last words he spoke to me,

"_Oh my dear Miss Everdeen, I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other."_

That's right. We did.

At that moment I make up my mind about what's true and what isn't. I tilt my bow up ever so slightly and let it fly. The arrow flies true, and in the shadow of an instant is pierces the heart of Alma Coin. She's dead on contact, as her body falls over the edge of the balcony and onto the floor of the square.

What follows is chaos. People storm the terrace and knock over the post restraining Snow, and I can hear his bloody, gargled laughter over the din. Guns are drawn everywhere I look. Screams and orders are being shouted as the guards try to control the crowd. Plutarch is the first person to reach me. If I had another arrow I would kill him on the spot. Instead, I look up with disdain as Peeta comes up next to him,

With all the anger I can muster, I tell Plutarch, "I change my vote."


	8. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

I'm taken away by the same four guards who brought out Snow. I can hear Peeta behind us trying to catch up. I pass the post that Snow had been tied to, blood pouring out of his smiling mouth and as dead as Alma Coin. I can't tell whether he was trampled to death or choked on his own blood, but I'm not sticking around long enough to find out. I get marshaled through everyone one as I am unceremoniously deposited inside a room off from the main foyer.

It's a small lounge, a few high-backed armchairs and stiff looking sofas and a piano in the corner. The door has just barely clicked shut when it opens again, and Peeta enters looking harassed and out of breath, "I had to fight my way through the mob, and then the guards wouldn't let me in," he says, as we embrace each other, "What were you thinking?"

"They killed Prim," I tell him, tearing up, "Coin and Plutarch. That whole thing with the hover craft was staged, and they used her to force me to vote for another Hunger Games, to trick everyone into thinking it was the Capitol killing those children, and to end the war fast. It was all fake."

He holds me tighter, telling me it's all going to be alright, but he has no way of knowing that. No one does. I just killed the president of our new country, and I doubt they're going to just let this one slide.

Haymitch then enters next, wearing a dazzling smile, "Served the bitch right. I never liked her very much anyway."

Peeta and I both stifle a laugh, but that doesn't hold and we start laughing, the three of us together. But the laughter stops instantly as Plutarch Heavensbee storms in.

"You've really done it this time, Katniss," he says. He's livid, he's afraid, and I could care less, "What possessed you—what justifies—you'll be _very_ lucky not to hang for this?"

"Tell that to my sister," I shoot back, pulling myself away from Peeta, "You disguised that ship, you dropped those bombs and killed those kids and you used Prim! Used her like you used me! Well now you can kiss your damned games good bye."

Plutarch's eyes get as wide as dinner plates. I caught him off guard, which only confirms the truth: they killed Prim. It takes every ounce of my strength not to kill him where he stands.

"You have a lot of growing up to do, Miss Everdeen." He says

"So I've been told." I say, not breaking eye contact with him.

He turns away from me to leave, but at the door he stops and says, "It may be difficult to secure your release." Plutarch then leaves.

We are there for hours while the mess outside gets cleaned up. From the windows in the lounge we can see the square empty, and the bodies of Snow and Coin get collected. No one comes in after Haymitch. There's no news, nothing to report, nothing to even care about. Food is brought to us in the afternoon, at which point Haymitch decides he's going to leave and try to find a few things out. He doesn't come back. Night falls over the mansion, and when Peeta checks the door it's locked from the outside. It seems we're prisoners here, and they mean for us to sleep here the night.

We move two of the sofas together so we can sleep together. Peeta says he's afraid that if we sleep separately they might come in the night and take me away. I think that might happen anyway, regardless of whether or not we sleep together. But I acquiesce to his request, and we sleep in our makeshift bed. I drift off to sleep wondering what sort of punishment they have in mind for such a traitorous act as the one I just committed. Would they assign someone to execute me the way I was supposed to with Snow? Would the people allow it? It keeps me awake for a while before the ease of Peeta's rhythmic breathing sends me off.

Morning comes all too soon, when our door opens, and it's Haymitch there, with two plates of eggs and toast for us. He sets the down on the piano as we walk over and dig in.

"So what's going to happen to us?" Peeta asks, finishing his plate.

I smile because he said, "us," and not, "her."

Haymitch sits us down and explains to us that there was a small minority within the Transitional Council that wanted to execute me, but the vast majority voted them down. That, and every single victor, Enobaria included, stepped up to defend me. So, instead they're going to announce that I've been convicted by special tribunal (Peeta scoffs.) but I will not be taken into custody. Instead, they are going to announce that I did what I did under extreme mental duress, and I am to return to District 12. There I must remain there for the rest of my life, never to leave again. Peeta gives my hand a squeeze as this is the best we could have hoped for. What the council thinks of as a punishment is the one thing that I've wanted since I left 13. We're going home.

"What about the presidency?" I ask him, "Who's taken over."

"This is not so good news," Haymitch says, "The council appointed Plutarch as President Pro Tempore. But just until a formal election can be organized. After which, if he's not elected, he will step down."

"It better be a fast election," I say under my breath.

The door opens again, and for the last time, when Effie Trinket walks in, no longer wearing black, but a brilliant blue suit with a fascinator to match, "Up! Up! Up! It's going to be—"

"A big, big, big day!" Peeta and I chime together. She beams at us as we follow her out the door. The main foyer is completely empty. No one's on the stairs, no one walk this way or that getting something ready and no is certainly trying to kill me, though they might want to. There is, however, a single trunk waiting in the center of the foyer. It seems someone has taken the trouble of packing our things, and I giggle a little bit at the thought of how much they want us gone, and that all of our earthly possessions can fit into a single case. I go to the trunk and open it, and from within I extract the small pearl Peeta gave me in the arena. He smiles at me, as we walk hand in hand with the pearl between us. Haymitch is kind enough to wheel away our trunk.

I hear a rumbling overhead and I hear it stop out front in the square. Effie walks with us out of the mansion, through the colonnade and over the blood-stained terrace. Sitting in the square, on the far side of the fountain, is a small hovercraft, our carriage home.

Effie walks a head of us a bit as she walks to the ship. As we get closer, I see none other than Plutarch Havensbee himself standing next to the hovercraft's open hatch.

"Good morning Katniss, Peeta," he says simply.

"That's it, good morning and good bye?" I say to him harshly.

"What more do you want? You assassinated the President!"

"Yes, I did," I repeat coldly, "Remember that. Remember that every time you or someone else in this government makes a decision, that the Mockingjay led the revolution and then killed Coin. _History is written by the winners_, a man once said, and I've won two Hunger Games and this war."

"Is that a threat, Miss Everdeen?"

"It's a promise."

Peeta looks to the floor and smiles in spite of himself, as we both board the hovercraft. Effie and Haymitch follow us immediately thereafter. We all take our seats and buckle in as the craft takes off and speeds away. I look out the window in time to see the Capitol disappear, and I am happy to finally show my back to the place. We finally get to go home, and stay there.

"Haymitch," Peeta asks, and I start to pay attention again, "What's going to happen with the final Hunger Games?"

"Didn't you hear?" Effie says.

"Our little mockingjay, here, changed her vote. And I vote with the mockingjay."

"So the final tally was five to two?" I say, "This day just keeps getting better."

"And now you're coming back home with us?" Peeta asks.

"Well, they didn't really have a place for me in the Capitol," Haymitch says, "And part of Katniss' sentence is that I keep an eye on her…as her mentor."

That doesn't bother me in the slightest. If could pick anyone as my jailor, it would be Haymitch. The man drinks too much, but he also knows me well. Peeta, Haymitch, Effie…they're my family now.

The hovercraft continues to spirit us away as it carries us east. We fly over the dense woods, wide open spaces of golden grain, and winding rivers. It's a view of the country I never get tired of seeing. I'm too eager to see District 12 again. My real home may be gone, but Peeta and I still have the Victors Village, and that will be home enough for the two of us. It sort of feels like a new adventure, but one with the smallest possible amount of risk and pain, the thought of which makes me even more eager to land. Suddenly I understand the difference between surviving and living. I've survived more times than I can count. Starting with my first trip to the Hob to when I boarded this airship. But what I need to live is what I can't give myself. A life with Gale would have been a life of fire, one fueled by passion and rage, both I seem to have in very high quantities. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The brilliant blossom against the white snow that serves as symbol for rebirth. The promise that life can go on and be good again. Only Peeta can provide that. Only Peeta knows what it was like in the games, and what we went through together could never be matched by anyone. Only Peeta I cannot live without.

The ship starts to slow down, and as we descend from the clouds District 12 comes into view. Peeta can sense my excitement and takes my hand in his,

"You love me, real or not real?"

I look to him smilingly, give him a kiss, and say, "Real."


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**  
><strong>20 years later<strong>

He begged me for them, and I kept resisting.

I was just so afraid that when we had them they would be whisked away like every other child I had ever known. He promised me that they would be ours, and nothing would happen to them if we didn't allow it to. And after ten years of marriage I thought it might be time. So, after being back in District 12 for nearly as many years I agreed to be the mother of Peeta Mallark's children. We've had two, so far. Our first born, Finnick, is a lot like his namesake. He's very handsome, with dark hair and strikingly blue eyes. He's always getting into trouble, either at school with his friends or teasing his sister, Primrose. She's a few years younger than Finnick and reminds me so much of my sister it frightens me, right down to the ducktail I constantly have to correct. Except her eyes, she has Peeta's eyes.

One of the local girls agreed to sit and watch the children for us while we were out, today. She works with us at the bakery, so I trust her completely. Normally I never leave the two of them alone for very long, but today is a special day, and there's no guarantee we'll be back anytime soon. Peeta meets me downstairs carrying a rucksack over his shoulder. He finds me fingering our wedding ring, the pearl he gave me set in a simple silver band. I do it often on days like today, so he simply smiles and doesn't say anything. He takes my hand and together we walk from our home in the Ember Village, formerly called the Victor's Village, and take the familiar beaten path to the woods.

We pass many of our neighbors on the way who stop us and give us hugs and a few words of encouragement. They know where we're headed today, and it's no secret. Others have come in from other districts, and even the Capitol, that it's hard not to miss. Still, no one invites themselves or ask to tag along, since they know this even has a strict attendance requirement. We move on and leave the settlements behind us. It takes a while, but we reach the lake first. It has not changed at all these many years, except for the small shack that once stood. Peeta and I knocked it down, and its place we erected a small stone monument. Engraved in the stone, it reads simply,

_In Memory of Haymitch Abernathy_  
><em>Mentor, Friend, and Eternal Victor<em>

It's been five years to the day that Haymitch passed. But his life was not taken by force in some distant arena or on some inhumane battlefield. Haymitch fell victim to his own vice. I told him he drank too much, and that it would catch up with him one day. I ate my words the day they came true. Since then however, we've all always gathered here, in his memory and in memory of our own shared history. His actual body is interred at the cemetery in town, among all the children he mentored in the Hunger Games. But we built this for us. I think he would have liked it here.

A strange fog starts to roll in as Peeta sets down the rucksack and starts to unpack it. He takes out a large blanket and lays it down over the grass, a bottle of clear white liquor (Haymitch's brand), and a variety of glasses. I help him straighten out the blanket while he uncorks the bottle.

"Damn, I wanted to beat you two here."

I turn around quickly and see Johanna Mason coming in from the fog. She looks good, letting her dark hair grow out a bit, though now she walks with the aid of a cane, the final parting gift from those horrible months all those years ago.

"In what world could you ever beat me?" I say to her playfully, and we embrace each other as friends. It took us a long time to get to this point, from hatred to neglect to respect to friendship. I'm glad it happened, though. Slowly, she hobbles over to Peeta and they start to chatter pleasantly.

Beetee is the next to arrive, also walking with the aid of a cane. He had surgery about a year ago, something about a bad hip. It's strange to see them growing old like this, though I suspect I'm not so far behind.

"Still working in Three, Beetee?" Peeta asks, pouring him a glass of the liquor.

"I have cushy job in the Capitol, now," he says, accepting the glass, "President Paylor wanted me to become her new Science and Technology Advisor."

"And how's Gale?" I ask him. We exchange letters every now and then, Gale and I. The distance does us well, and I think of him fondly. I wonder if he does the same.

"The consummate bachelor," Beetee replies, "He's settled in the Capitol, now one of the President's bodyguards."

Annie is the next to materialize from the fog. She enters quietly, looks as though she arrived at our little hollow quite by mistake. But when I go to greet her she gives me the most meaningful hug, the kind that I thought only Peeta could give. There are moments when I wonder about Annie and how she makes life worth living. Then she does simple little things like this and all doubt is banished from my mind.

"Am I the last one here?" she asks, taking a drink from Peeta.

"Not by a long shot," comes a voice from the fog.

Like a ghost in the night, in strolls Enobaria, an arrogant little smile on her face and a slight swagger to her gait. I really don't much care to have her here, not after so much unpleasantness. But the fact that she comes at all speaks a lot about her character, and she joins the others milling about the monument.

"It's good to see you again, Enobaria," Johanna says.

"No it's not," she says, nonchalantly, "But I appreciate it just the same, Jo."

Once everyone has a glass, we all stand around the monument and drink a toast to our dear friend. Peeta says a few words, as only he can, then we all down the liquor in one shot. It's terrible. It burns the entire way down, but we all ask for a second pouring. Peeta leaves a poured shot on the monument, and the rest of us settle on the blanket. I take out a few snacks and fresh bread from the rucksack, and we all start to eat.

In no time the war stories start and the reminiscing begins. Everything from classic moves in previous Hunger Games, to benign conquests in their youth, to the revolution itself. We talk about how the old arenas have all been torn down, and monuments erected in their place. Apparently, President Paylor renamed Agora Square to Odair Circle, and the stone fountain has been replaced by a large eternal flame with a monument engraved with the name of every single person who died in the arena. This is why I voted for her. Twice.

We all sit and eat for hours and hours, with this fog seeming intent on not lifting. I catch Peeta's eyes and he smiles at me. We're not sure if this is something Haymitch would have appreciated, but if he and I were ever alike, he's somewhere having a drink and toasting to our honor as we did to his. Still, this is far better than a pious memorial ceremony with much pomp and circumstance. Instead, an intimate gathering of those who knew him best, and who do not lament his death, but celebrate his life. And as I watch them all laugh heartily and speak animatedly at memories past and memories yet to be made, I feel a supreme contentment settle over me, for the world is right as it should be.

The End.


End file.
